


the light at the far end of the tunnel (or just the train)

by jewelram



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Depression, M/M, POV Second Person, Post-Season/Series 10, mickey taking care of ian when he's depressed, need me a freak like that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:33:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24773191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jewelram/pseuds/jewelram
Summary: or, what goes up...
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 4
Kudos: 88





	the light at the far end of the tunnel (or just the train)

**Author's Note:**

> title from "tidal wave" by owl city  
> i've spent the last few days feeling like shit and not much else so i wrote this. grammarly didn't catch any glaring errors, but let me know if you see anything  
> no capital letters for the aesthetic, but also laziness, but also the aesthetic™

the day is off to a bad start and you haven't even opened your eyes. you have to force them open and when you do, you find yourself alone in bed.

whether it's because you woke up early to go for a run or you didn't go to sleep the night before, you're almost always the first one awake. if it were any other day, you might miss the familiar shape beside you.

today you roll over toward the wall and pull the covers over your head.

the next time you wake up it's because of the weight dipping the mattress.

"room for one more?" he asks. you grunt in reply, which he seems to take as acquiescence because he slides in behind you. he doesn't touch you, for which you're grateful.

he talks to fill the silence. tells you about franny singing the abc song at breakfast and about liam showing off by singing it backward while carl called out random letters to try and trip him up.

all it does is remind you that you're too fucking pathetic to get up and have breakfast with your family. the thought makes you curl in on yourself even further.

he keeps talking, constantly switching topics when he can sense something is doing more harm than good. he never talks to you more than when you're like this. sometimes it makes you dread the sound of his voice for more than three sentences. thankfully today isn't like that.

today you feel nothing.

you must have made an audible noise because you feel a hesitant touch brush against your arm. "hey, it's okay. you knew this might happen. it's been a rough couple weeks."

you want to tell him that knowing that doesn't make it any easier, but the words won't come. "i can't..."

he shifts closer and wraps an arm around you. your voice has made him bold. "it's okay," he repeats. "you wanna eat something?"

you shake your head as well as you can with it in your pillow.

"okay," he says again, and you're starting to hate the word. "will you do it anyway?"

you should. you know you should, and you know he wants you to. you know it will probably make you feel better sooner.

"please, ian." he's always been a nickname person when it came to you, reserving your name for either really good or really bad times. it's that more than anything that finally gets you to turn over. he's smiling at you, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "hey."

it feels like a herculean effort to raise your arm and put your hand on his face but you manage it somehow. it's worth it to see his smile widen just a little. "okay."

he puts his hand over yours for just a second before sitting up and grabbing something from the bedside table. it's a plate with two pieces of toast on it, one with butter and one with peanut butter. he helps you sit up against the wall and hands you the peanut butter toast before you can even attempt to reach for it. you slump down a little so you can lean against his shoulder while you try to eat.

he eats slowly to match your pace, but still finishes long before you do.

"all done?" he asks unnecessarily. he starts to shift away and you lift your head just enough to make it easier.

you hold out your hand, feeling just well enough not to fight what you know comes next. sure enough, he places your pills in your hand and follows them up with a cup of water before they even make it to your mouth. you wait until he takes the cup back and slide back under the covers.

"want me to fuck off for a bit?"

you nod slightly.

"okay." his fingers brush through your hair and then you feel the mattress shift as he gets up. "i love you."

you don't say anything. you'll tell him when you're better, when the words won't feel like a lie on your tongue.

he doesn't wait for a response, and you're asleep again before he makes it to the door.

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes depression's just like that, man. not good, not bad, just a whole lotta nothin  
> jr


End file.
